I'm also an artist. A painter.

I'm an artist. A painter. That's how I glamorize what I'm doing. Painting the house. Makes me feel a little bit like an artist. Because I occasionally step back, and observe what I'm doing. And it looks beautiful. Magnificent. And I'm getting a bonus. Good exercise. Especially with my arms and upper body. Which helps keep me in shape. Usually, my true aerobic exercise is limited to 30 miles of biking in a day, or 10 miles of walking/jogging. But now I've learned to enjoy my artistic venture. The house needed painting. It was a dull brown. Something called russet. Now there's a slight reddish tinge to the brown. The color is called majolica twig. I kid you not. I bought a 5-gallon bucket of the paint. It's a good quality paint. Or so the salesman told me. Their best. Think it cost $165. Might be enough to coat the entire house. I'm about 60 percent done. And looks to me like 40 percent of the paint remains. I bought a paint sprayer. But decided to use brushes instead. Two of 'em. A 3-incher and a 4-incher. Good quality brushes. I'm told that such brushes help to make a good artist. Anyway, I confess that I hired someone to prepare the house for painting. To scrape the old paint. Because the place hasn't been painted in at least five years. The place was looking weathered. When I started, thought my pursuit would be work. But really, it's turned out to be pure pleasure. Now I think of myself as more than a romantic idealist, a free-thinker on spiritual matters, a political liberal, a lover and a dreamer. I'm also an artist. A painter. --Jim Broede